


Past Present Irregular

by hiddenhibernian



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 11:58:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9234143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddenhibernian/pseuds/hiddenhibernian
Summary: Hogwarts has become unstuck in time. One could run into just about anyone wandering the corridors...





	

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks to my wonderful beta Hìril. Any remaining mistakes are my own. This was originally written for the HP Time Travel fest on LiveJournal.

As always, thanks to my wonderful beta Hìril. Any remaining mistakes are my own. This was originally written for the HP Time Travel fest on LiveJournal.

****

Past Present Irregular

-oOo-

"Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut UP!" The older student bent down so he was staring right into the first-year's pale, frightened, little face. "I don't want to know who my idiot father is going to shack up with, it's bad enough I know my parents will be getting divorced. Can you imagine what it's like to wait for it to happen, every holiday?" He straightened up and sighed. "Of course, you can't. You'll find out soon enough, though."

Duncan Smith stared after the boy he'd been sharing a room with every second weekend since he was ten. Lance stalked off, like he usually did when he had had enough of his step-brother, but now Duncan could see that he was thinner than normal, and even if Hogwarts-Lance towered over him as usual there seemed to be a few inches missing.

What was this place? His mother had told him all about the wonders of Hogwarts – Duncan had already seen the Great Hall and the Moving Staircases, and as soon as they got some free time on Saturday he was going down to look at the remnants of Hagrid's Hut with two other Hufflepuff first-years. Mum hadn't mentioned anything about people getting younger, though. Neither had Lance, the few times Duncan had been able to badger him into telling him what wizarding school was like.

"It's all right," a tall, blond boy with the prefect badge said, putting a hand on Duncan's shoulder. Duncan had seen him in the common room, laughing with his mates. Cedric, he reckoned his name was. "Time runs differently at Hogwarts. It only seems to matter here – once you get home, you forget all about it until you come back. You'll get used to it."

"Really?" Duncan wasn't sure he wanted to – he quite liked it when time worked normally, and people weren't rude when you only tried to talk to them.

"Really. It will be fine. Trust me." The older boy squeezed his shoulder comfortingly, and Duncan smiled back. Cedric had kind eyes, and he was a Hufflepuff too. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad.

"I can't remember the last time I went home, though," Cedric mumbled to himself as Duncan set off to the Potions classroom, skipping down the stairs to the dungeons two at a time. He almost crashed into a black-robed figure with buttons all the way up to his throat heading up the other way, pounding each step with his dragon hide boots like he held a grudge against them.

"Watch it!" he growled at the terrified Duncan. "Five – Ten points from Hufflepuff!"

"Really, Severus. I thought we'd agreed you can only dock points when you're actually a teacher." Duncan recognised this one – she was on one of his Chocolate Frog cards. Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts 1998 – 2012. Her face looked sterner in reality, and her hair was black not grey. Still, she smiled at 'Severus', whom Duncan was astonished to see couldn't be much older than Cedric.

"I am," he snapped. "I was just appointed today. As you can imagine, certain information has come as rather a shock."

"Celebrations are in order, then – I'm sure you can let Mr Smith here off the hook, just this once?"

"That's your bl- the problem with you: you're always finding reasons to let the dunderheads off the hook. They're going to save the world, or they will come to a sticky end – anything seems to be preferable to showing some respect for their elders. Meanwhile, I have to deal with not only knowing my past mistakes, but the one's I'll make in the future as well!" The man swept his robes around him with a snarl, and Duncan jumped out of the way. His heart was hammering so hard he was sure the witch could hear it.

"Pas devant les étudiants," she told the other teacher. "I know it's not easy to come to terms with, especially for you, but there are good reasons the teachers can see the full picture, as it were. Come to my office, and we can talk. I assume it was Albus you were looking for?" She turned him around and started walking off, turning over her shoulder to wink to Duncan, who ran off gratefully. He hoped his own teachers would be nicer than the angry one.

Eventually, he reached the classroom, only to hover uncertainly at the door. Inside, some much older students were brewing something golden and steamy in their cauldrons. A tall student near the door had bottled up his potions already, and noticed Duncan hesitating on the threshold. He smiled and beckoned with his head, but the fat teacher at the desk gave up a roaring snore and Duncan fled.  
He must have got the time wrong.

Wondering what was the right time in a castle where everything seemed to be upside down, he almost walked into two female students having a row.

"You are my mum! I swear," sobbed a girl with bubble gum pink hair and robes that were much shorter than Duncan reckoned they should be.

"You are a filthy liar and a freak, and I will have nothing to do with you." The other girl sneered at her, and Duncan felt sorry for her. She wiped away a tear, before pulling her shoulders back and straightening up.

"Suit yourself. See if I come back for the holidays this year. I'm invited to stay with the Weasleys whenever I want." She sniffed and turned around.

"The Weasleys? The blood traitors, how dare you – "

Duncan knew enough to stay away from people who used that type of words. He scrambled after the girl with the pink hair, and after a few yards she turned around to look at him.

"Little boy lost in the dungeons, eh? Don't worry, I'll look after you. I'm Tonks, by the way."

"I'm Duncan. I'm a Hufflepuff, too," he piped up, having noticed the black-and-yellow scarf tied around her waist like a belt.

"Excellent. We're heading the same way, then." They trudged deeper into the dungeons, but the girl seemed to know her way. Soon the path turned upwards, and in a few steps they came out into the bright sunlight again. Duncan barely had time to register they were on the second floor before the girl walked into a statue of a goblin. Somehow she managed to dislodge it from its plinth, so she landed with it in a jumble on the floor. The bang when the statue bounced on the floor tiles was so loud Duncan's ears felt like they had been filled with cotton wool. He hesitated, not sure what to do to untangle the mess of metal and limbs, when one of doors burst open.

The man who emerged had his wand in his hand, and quickly scanned the corridor before deciding the two students seemed to be the only cause of the disturbance. He muttered something, and the statue flew back into one piece as if nothing had happened.

"It's all right, it happens every so often. Poor Gulbrand the Godless became dislodged at the Battle of Hogwarts. Ever since then, you only need you breathe in his general direction and he'll take a tumble." He stretched his hand out to Tonks and pulled her up from the floor. "There you are, Miss – ?"

"Tonks," she said at the same time as the man looked at her properly for the first time. His cheerful smile died. Duncan couldn't decide whether it was longing or grief or something else that replaced it, but he couldn't remember ever seeing anyone look so sad before.

"Ta ever so much," Tonks said, releasing his hand when it became clear he wasn't going to let go anytime soon. "We'll be off, so. Duncan?"

"Yeah," Duncan mumbled. He wondered why the man was so downcast – you'd think Tonks' bright pink hair would cheer anyone up. Maybe it was because he was poor. Mum had taken care to explain to Duncan that not everyone had enough money to replace fraying robes or trousers that needed mending, and he could see both right now.

He remembered something Mum said sometimes, when she thought someone was moping. "Cheer up," Duncan told the man, and decided to skip the 'love'. "It might never happen."

"But it will," he mumbled sadly, looking at Tonks again like his heart was breaking. "It will."

"Come on, Duncan." Tonks dragged him away and he had to skip to keep up. "Be careful. You never know who you may run into – some people are dead creepy," she said as soon as they were out of earshot.

"I think he was just sad."

"And creepy. Come on, nearly there."

They took the steps two at a time, finally reaching the Entrance Hall and then the door to their common room. Duncan watched Tonks tap the second barrel, trying to memorise where she touched it. He had only done it twice so far, and never on his own. After today, he wasn't so keen on roaming the corridors. The common room felt like a welcome escape.

They stepped into the room together, familiar warm sunshine greeting them. Something was wrong, though – wide, fur-lined wooden benches were lining the walls, and the comfortable armchairs Duncan had sat on this morning were gone. There was no portrait hanging above the fireplace, either.

Instead, a fat, friendly-looking woman with her head full of greying plaits spilling down her back beamed at them. "Hullo there, my little birds! Welcome back." Her robes were green and a funny shape, almost like she was wearing a sack instead of clothes. She looked so nice that Duncan wasn't afraid, even though he had no idea what time she was from.

Tonks looked like she was about to wee in her pants. "Are you – Is it really-"

"Yes, indeed, my dear." The woman looked amused, and motioned for her to come forward. "I see you're quite something, child, and I'm not just referring to your unusual talent. And whom might this young man be?"

Duncan wasn't very good at being polite, to his mum's disapproval, but he could tell this witch was something out of the ordinary. "I'm Duncan Smith, madam. I'm just a first year."

"Don't say that, now – we all have to start somewhere. All that matters is where we end up."

"Do you know what's wrong with Hogwarts, madam?" Tonks asked. "The time seems to be messed up, and everything is happening at the same time."

"It happens ever so often – no matter how good a witch or wizard one is, it's impossible to predict how all the different strands of magic at Hogwarts connect and amplify each other. Sometimes, there is simply too much powerful magic to contain in the present, and it will bend time a little. Most of the people you have seen are from quite recently, are they not?"

Tonks nodded. Duncan, who had realised just whom they were talking to, reckoned that if you're a thousand years old, a century is not that long ago. "Is there anything we can do to put it right?" Tonks asked.

"That's why I'm here – once the four of us get word and appear, we can put it right in a trice. Just go to bed, my dears, and tomorrow will be as if it never happened!" She looked so jolly and reassuring that Duncan believed her straight away. He felt rather tired all of a sudden, and swallowed a huge yawn. If only his bed were in the same present as himself he would give anything to just go to sleep right now.

He set off for where his dormitory usually was, waving to Tonks and Madam Hufflepuff on his way. They were already deep in discussion. Tonks asked something about "The Trousers of Time", and Madam Hufflepuff's low, pleasant voice started to explain. Duncan was too tired to stay and listen.

As he climbed into his bed, which fortunately was exactly where he had left it just a few hours ago, Duncan wondered what Tonks meant. Did Time have a cloak as well, just like Death? He drifted off to sleep, dreaming about four figures in roughly woven robes raising their wands to a song without words.

The next day, Duncan didn't understand why he kept thinking it was Wednesday, instead of Tuesday. He knew yesterday had been Monday – you don't forget your first lesson in Transfiguration in a hurry. Shrugging it off, he tucked into his breakfast like he hadn't seen food for a fortnight.

Maybe he just had a strange dream.

THE END


End file.
